#Hughie Green

[revcnqe]

THE BOYS 1x02

[petit-hughie]

[agentgreenbean]

i loved the finale of the boys s4 but alas i still can't look past how badly hughie was treated this season

[nero-neptune]

oppenheimer has The most Random Fucking Cast I've ever seen

[timerevolt]

        “Can we keep him?” Lulu was aware this was a big ask. After all, they had just moved in together. But still, when she found the orange tabby kitten out in the cold alone – she had to take him home. “Pretty please with cherries on top?” Large blue eyes looked up at him pleadingly, as she held up the mewing kitten.

starter call . | @awkwardcourage

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific accent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to learn. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town ain't big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

[thebiggerbear]

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: Hughie and everyone don't understand what you see in Soldier Boy but they also haven't seen what you've seen: Ben.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader

A/N: This is part of the Soldier Boy/Beau Arlen/Dean Winchester/CJ Braxton/Alec McDowell/Jason Teague/Tom Hanniger/Russell Shaw/Boaz Priestly/Jake Gray/Jensen Ackles RPF prompt response project I've been working on the last month (previewed here). This idea immediately popped into my head for it.

All unbeta'd.

Warnings: language; implied past sexual assault (not SB); mentions of implied drug use; mentions of violence; mentions of death

Word Count: 2199

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown

Soldier Boy Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy

@solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @faephoria

@believeinthefireflies95

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @bts24; @deans-spinster-witch

@rebel-paladin; @nancymcl

You can also read on AO3

Beau Arlen | Dean Winchester | CJ Braxton | Jake Gray | Jason Teague | Boaz Priestly | Russell Shaw | Tom Hanniger | Jensen Ackles RPF | Alec McDowell

Once MM stormed out of the room, followed by a glaring Butcher, Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie descended on you. Frenchie stayed in the corner, beyond shocked — so shocked he forgot to puff away at his still burning cigarette.

“Seriously?” Annie spat angrily.

Hughie looked more disappointed than pissed off at you, and that somehow bothered you more than Annie’s fury ever could have. “Y/N, you’ve got to explain this one to me. I don’t…” He took a deep breath and began again. “The guy’s a fossil. A racist, homicidal, perverted piece of shit fossil.” Hughie placed his hands on his hips. “What do you even see in the guy?”

Kimiko furiously signed a repeat of the question.

You knew Hughie was right. Soldier Boy had done a lot of fucked up shit — shit that wasn’t forgivable in any way, shape, or form. But you also knew Ben, the man underneath all of that asinine machismo and false bravado. You’d seen glimpses of him here and there when no one else had, when Ben himself hadn’t even known you had. It also didn’t hurt that you’d seen memories of his childhood play in his mind or saw flashes of his strained relationship with his father — the man he could never live up to or gain his approval, no matter how hard he tried. There was a lot swimming underneath the surface of that green suit, under that indestructible skin, that had gotten corrupted and then shaped by easy fame, a greedy corporation, and more drugs than any person should have coursing through their system on a daily basis, even a Supe. All of it was certainly no excuse for the things he’d done, but you knew there was more to him than who he’d been, who he was now even — you’d literally seen it.

So you looked your oldest friend in the eye and spoke as honestly as you could. “Everything you don’t,” you told him quietly before walking out of the room in the opposite direction MM and Butcher had gone in. You came to a stop outside the door when you saw Ben standing there, his green eyes watching you sharply. 

He had obviously heard every word and while it wasn’t exactly something you wanted him to find out, you refused to act embarrassed or caught out. So you stuck your chin up a little higher, daring him to say something he would end up regretting should he piss you off.

“You saw a lot more than you let on when they had you do a read on me after pulling me out of the tube.” Not a question but a statement, one that didn’t contain any traces of surprise.

He was right; you had seen plenty — some things you’d rather forget. But you had meant what you said to Hughie just before, to Butcher and the team before that. There was more to him than the green suit, than the America’s Son bullshit facade, and even the horrible things he had done in his time. There was something there worth trying to extricate, to let see the light of day that hadn’t in a very long time. 

You didn’t respond to what he’d said; you had no need to. You only watched him as he watched you.

Ben took a few wary steps forward until he was right in front of you. He carefully reached out a hand to your cheek, laying his fingers along your skin when he saw that you didn’t immediately pull away from him. 

“So,” he started, his voice a little more gravelly than usual as he spoke quietly to you, only for your ears and his. He tenderly ran his thumb near the corner of your mouth. “I matter to you, huh?”

When you thought he was indeed making fun of you as he thought he might, echoing your words back to you, you noticed a small smile forming on his face as his eyes roamed over yours. You had seen plenty of smiles from the man since you’d first seen him a couple of months ago or so — mostly smug smirks or leering grins, usually aimed at everyone but you — but you had never seen this one before. It caught you off guard so much, you were captivated. “You know you do,” you murmured. 

He stared at you for a moment, glancing between you and your mouth, and then slowly leaned in. When his lips gently connected to yours, you felt an immediate electric shock travel through your system. So much so that you started seeing images playing behind your eyelids that weren’t your own. 

…Him listening to you and Hughie bicker in the next room about which Billy Joel song was the best (We Didn’t Start the Fire for you and Pressure for him) and how he smiled to himself when you told Hughie in a playful tone to suck it when the little whiny bitch tried to show you what the critics helmed the better song. 

…Ben getting angry when some piece of shit Supe had the balls to put his hand on your ass at Herogasm — a hand he immediately crushed.

…Him surreptitiously studying each interaction between you and Butcher, noting the hostility but begrudging respect between you, wondering if there was a story there and if there was, how he planned to convince you that he was the better man for you compared to the backstabbing Brit.

…Him rushing to protect you with his shield when one of Homelander’s team of misfits you didn’t see coming nearly killed you with a massive blow. You felt the rage coursing through his veins when he noticed a small trickle of blood coming from a wound near your scalp as you glanced up at him gratefully. Most of the Supes you had engaged had died that day and now you knew exactly why.

…Ben watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stood at the window, arms crossed and ominously silent, after MM had mentioned The Deep while planning on how to take out Homelander. He waited until everyone had cleared out, even Hughie who had squeezed your shoulder as he passed you by, and Ben carefully approached you from behind, torn between wanting to pull you back into his large frame to cage you protectively in his arms or to ask what was the matter. He had ended up going with the latter and you simply said “Kevin’s not a good person” and walked away, your shoulders a little more sunken down than he’d ever seen them. You felt his resolve from that moment and now knew why he had gone after The Deep with such a laser focus before even bothering with Homelander. 

…You reassuring him when he suddenly woke from a sound sleep, gasping and wide-eyed, as his chest began glowing — a result of him not self-medicating nearly as much as he used to. He had wanted you to feel safe around him so he’d cut back on the Bennies, the reefer, the booze, and even the women. He would never admit it out loud but he cared deeply about what you thought. Unbeknownst to you at the time, when you had first seen inside his head, he had gotten a glimpse inside of yours, too. And what he had seen…he wanted to be a man worthy of you. Or at least try his best. You were everything he hadn’t even known he wanted until that moment. So he had made a valiant effort to kick the drug and alcohol habit to the side but it didn’t come without consequences for him. Ben had dreamt he was back in Russia, stuck in a box as they poked and prodded at him, laughing and telling him he would never be free and he would never see anyone again. When he heard your voice telling him he was safe, he grasped for you and you let him, even though he felt you tense up at his greedy touch. “Sorry,” he gruffed out and immediately released you, worried he had either hurt you without meaning to or had made you uncomfortable in his bid to make sure you were real. “It’s okay,” you whispered, picking up his hand and placing it in between both of yours. “I’m right here. You’re safe.” When he felt your thumb tenderly swiping over his knuckles in reassuring strokes, he rasped out, “Did you see?” Instead of answering, you reached up to lay a hand against his cheek. “You’re home now and you’re never going back.” Your words were a fiery promise enforced by the steely resolve in your eyes. “I won’t let you.” He gently held his hand over yours and the glow in his chest receded; he believed you.

…Him watching you as you slept on the opposite end of the couch. You mumbled and sighed a lot in your sleep and it fascinated him. Earlier, when you had found the show he wanted, he had asked you to sit and watch with him, just in case he didn’t understand any of the references. You had obliged and promptly drifted off two episodes in. To Ben, it was a huge ego boost; you felt safe and comfortable enough around him that you could fall asleep near him. As he watched you, hearing your sounds, he really wanted to know what you were dreaming about, especially when your brows knit together and you let out a terrified whimper. He had picked you up without waking you and held you close to him. “You’re okay, doll,” he promised in a soothing murmur to your hairline. “I’ve got you and nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it.” He heard you inhale deeply and then release a contented sigh a moment later. You relaxed in his arms, curling into him, and he stayed like that the entire night: holding you as he watched episode after episode of Friends, something he had only picked because he thought you might like it enough to agree when he planned to ask you to stay. As much as he enjoyed the sound of your voice when you patiently explained things to him, the night turned out even better than he dared to hope, especially when you subconsciously buried your face into his neck and stayed cocooned there. Only when he heard you beginning to stir back into consciousness hours later did he gently place you back in the spot you fell asleep in, pretending not to notice when you fully woke up, opening one sleepy eye to find him in front of you. He shrugged off your apology and glanced over to find you softly smiling at him, causing a strange twinge to happen inside his chest, something reminiscent of when the nuclear reactor inside of him went off but far less dangerous…and much more pleasant.

The images faded as he slowly pulled back a few inches, his green gaze staring deeply into yours. “Was that okay?”

You slowly nodded, still beyond shocked not only at what you had seen or how gentle the kiss had been, but also the sensations it had caused to sweep through you — things you were pretty sure you’d never feel in your lifetime. Hints of desire and a lightness whispered throughout your body as another stronger emotion gained a foothold and blanketed your entire being. Whereas it might have frightened you before, it didn’t now. You knew you were safe, protected, and after this kiss, you now also knew you were cherished to a certain extent.  

Almost as if he knew what you were thinking, fleeting relief gave way to a small smile on his face and he tenderly placed his thumb on your chin. “Good. Because you matter to me, too.”  

You couldn’t help but smile in return, seeing his eyes light up, and you gently framed his face in your hands. You stood on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his again, eager to see more as he willingly put his guard down to let you completely in. You also wanted to experience that rush of sensations again with him and this time when he wrapped his arms around you to carefully hold you against him, you buried your fingers into his hair and only deepened the kiss. It wasn’t Soldier Boy who was kissing you back and whose thumb tenderly brushed against your jawline; it was Ben — the very Ben you’d seen hidden underneath all of the layers of toxic masculinity, simmering rage, and the Supe tamping down the man with years of drug use, womanizing, and an overinflated ego. And from the images and thoughts swimming in your mind that didn’t belong to you, your Ben by all accounts. Something that sadly Hughie and the rest would never understand or even be willing to try. But as Ben soundly kissed you, when he broke away to let you catch your breath and placed his forehead against yours, tenderly rubbing strands of your hair that had come loose between his fingertips, you found that part didn’t really bother you all that much.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[zepskies]

Imagine: Soldier Boy Getting Jealous...

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || (past Frenchie x F. Reader)

Request: Soldier Boy finding out you had something with Frenchie, years before meeting him.

Word Count: 1K

Tags/Warnings: Jealousy lol (With a hint of spice.~)

Imagine: Ben getting jealous over your past relationship with Frenchie.

He doesn't care.

Because he doesn't care...

When you sit him down in the living room of your apartment and tell him you used to date Frenchie, Ben's reaction is mild at best. To the point where it kind of concerns you.

Ben raises a brow and gives a deep hum.

"Oh, really? That limey bastard?" he remarks. He takes a sip from his tumbler of whiskey. You give him a weary sigh.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that," you reply. You and Frenchie are still friends. Your "entanglement" was years ago, before he even started hooking up with Cherie.

But you still want to be honest with Ben. You two have been dating for a few months now, and it's actually serious. No one's more surprised than you by that fact, but...you're happy. You think he is too.

At your response, however, Ben rolls his eyes and continues drinking. You tilt your head in suspicion.

"So you're chill?" you ask.

"Chill?" he quirks a brow at you. Your lips form a smile.

"You're okay with this," you amend.

Ben shrugs and turns on the TV, trying to navigate the streaming apps. You’d put him on to Game of Thrones. Even three seasons into his binge-watching, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s hooked.

"You're fucking a real man now, sweetheart. No skin off my nose," he says.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, despite a warm blush stinging your cheeks.

But the next time you all go out together to a club in the city, Ben watches you leave his side to say hello to your friends: Annie, Hughie, Frenchie and Kimiko. Frenchie takes your hands and makes a show of looking you up and down.

"Well, well. She shoots to kill tonight, eh?" Frenchie says. When he leans in to kiss your cheek, he whispers, "Ah, black leather. My old favorite."

"Stop," you warn with a smile, hitting his shoulder. He's absolutely shameless. "You're too much."

"And you are just enough," Frenchie returns. He whistles playfully as he raises your hand to twirl you around, showing you off in your little black dress and red-bottom heels.

You laugh, but you bump into Ben when you twirl for the second time. Your laughter cuts off abruptly when you see the flinty look on his face, though he's clinging to stoicism.

Frenchie’s eyes widen as he seems to realize the very real danger he's put himself in. He wisely lets go of your hand, pivots on his heel and goes with Kimiko over to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, you move back to Ben's side and try to placate him by looping your arm through his. He responds by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. His eyes bore into the back of Frenchie's head so hard, you almost expect laser beams to come out of them.

"Come on, let's get a drink," you suggest, patting a hand on Ben's chest. He looks good tonight in a burgundy button-down shirt tucked into his slacks.

Ben wordlessly agrees to your suggestion, but he grabs a stool and drags it close to his own seat. He does help you by the hand onto the stool, but then his arm wraps back around your waist, pulling you in snugly, possessively to his side.

You try not to smile in amusement. It's a caveman's display, but at least you know the root cause this time.

...Okay, maybe you feel the tiniest bit complicit, but really, you think Ben's overreacting.

After he flags down the bartender and orders his bourbon and your martini, you tap against his bearded cheek, earning his green-eyed attention.

"You okay?" you ask knowingly.

"Just fine," he deadpans.

"Oh, well that's convincing," you say with a smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm here with you?"

Ben's gaze hardens. "I don't know. You were pretty happy to let that French whore put his fucking hands all over you—"

"All right. Calm down, Rambo," you say, trying not to laugh as you rub his arm. "Sorry, baby. That's just how we've always cut up. It doesn't mean anything."

Ben scoffs in derision. "Yeah? Fuck if I care."

You frown at that, sparking with annoyance. Somehow, now you actually do feel guilty. You and Frenchie have bounced off each other like Derek and Garcia for so long, you didn't even realize how it might look...or how it might make your boyfriend feel.

Because even with all that ego and injured pride, you have a feeling there's a real sting of hurt under there.

"Hey," you say, squeezing Ben's wrist. His gaze remains stubbornly on the bartender making your drinks.

You decide to take matters more firmly into your hands.

Reaching up for his chin, you guide Ben's face toward yours and press a kiss to his lips. It's slow at first, but it soon gains in passion. His teeth graze your bottom lip, before his tongue demands entrance into your mouth with claiming purpose.

It elicits a hint of a moan from you, your fingers clenching in his hair. Your nails drag against his scalp, almost making him shudder.

Your supple lips eventually pull away from his, nice and slow.

"Your hands are the only hands I care about touching me," you say. Your expression twinkles with mischief as you toy with the zipper on the side of your dress.

"As a matter of fact, I need your help," you add. "This zipper keeps catching on something. I think it's stuck."

Quite possibly because someone got a little handsy in the cab on the way here.

Ben smirks, though he claims your lips in one more slightly rough kiss before he answers.

"Well that is a problem," he says. His eyes roam down your face, taking in your thoroughly kissed lips, and the cleavage peeking out at him from the neckline of your dress.

"Think I can give you a hand," he says, as his actual hand slips down your leg. His fingers brush along the inside of your thigh, tingling across your skin. His half-lidded gaze once again meeting yours. "Better take you out back and fix you up."

You laugh, despite the return of your blush. You cling to his shoulders, while his fingers burn a tantalizing trail upwards.

"Oh, yeah. Save me, Soldier Boy!" you tease.

He snorts in response, but he helps guide you out of your seat.

Moments later, all your friends find at the bar are two forgotten drinks and a couple of empty stools.

AN: Ah, jealous Ben. It's fun to imagine. 😂

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem

@deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees

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@wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105

@liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @chernayawidow @tmb510

@iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waynes-multiverse

[dwonfilm]

Teaching tech. | Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Butcher tasked you with the job of teaching a freshly thawed Ben, aka Soldier Boy, how to use technology. First off you started with teaching him about the iPhone.

Warnings: bit of Solider Boy being Soldier Boy but otherwise, mostly fluff.

“Dammit!” [Y/N] heard Ben’s voice from the other room and she sighed. Next was a smash and that made her rush back into the bedroom. Immediately Ben’s eyes lifted up to see her coming in and he scoffed. “I didn’t break the cocksucking thing this time.” He stated plainly. “Good,” she answered. “I don’t have the money to buy you a fourth phone.” She moved to sit on the bed next to where he was currently sitting. “This shit ain’t a phone, it’s a thin ass rock with futuristic shit inside. Phones have a base and a receiver or they were these massive bricks with buttons—not whatever the fuck a touch screen is-“ Ben ranted, but [Y/N] just laughed. “Yeah, they were those things once but this is 2022. Life’s changed a lot and eventually you’re gonna need to learn all these things.” She spoke, picking up the phone that was on the bed between them, swiping up to unlock it. Bits of her [Y/H/C] hair covered her face while her attention focused on the screen. Ben just watched, a grumpy expression on his facial features. “How’d you get stuck doing this anyway? Where’s the Cum Guzzler or the Cheerio?” She laughed, Ben’s nicknames for people were always pretty humorous. “Hughie is scared of you and Butcher can barely explain anything in the entire history of life’s existence.” Ben gently laughed at her answer. Fingers moved across the screen, making selections that she didn’t think were necessary to explain to him at the moment. “So, the bean pole’s afraid of me huh?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. However it did bring up another question. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” His tone seemed indifferent but there was a hint of something more inside his eyes. Something she was oblivious to since her own were focused on the screen of the phone in her hands. Though, she slowly gazed up from it for a moment. “Honestly,” she began with a pause directly after. It was as if she was attempting to think about how to answer him. “I was at first, a little bit, but I just try to sympathize.” He scoffed almost immediately. “You sympathize with a piece of shit like me? No wonder it’s so easy to get you women in the sack. Jesus Chris-“ She turned her head and shot a glare at him. “You can sympathize with people without wanting to fuck them, for starters.” She rolled her eyes, moving her gaze back to the phone in her hands. “No one’s perfect, not that it’s excusing.. well everything. Despite all that, no one here has any real room to judge too harshly.” Ben quirked a brow at that. “That so? Don’t tell me a pretty lil’ thing like you has baggage!” Part of him was sort of mocking her, though he was getting curious. “Moving on, I made the email for you and set up an account for you to use the phone.” She began to explain, looking over to him but finding a confused expression on his face. “E-what?” He asked plainly, green eyes gazing into her own. “Right, I forgot you have no grasp on the basics.” She turned towards him now.

“Email is pretty easy, it’s like sending letters to people—only digitally and in a much faster time period. It used to take y’know, days, weeks for those to be delivered. Now it just takes seconds—also instead of a home address you just need their email address. Does that make sense at least somewhat?” Her voice was gentle, not sarcastic or cruel. [Y/E/C] eyes meeting his green ones as he was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.. I mean it seems straightforward enough—though doing that stupid shit is gonna be harder than understanding what the fuck it is.” He answered. “Well, yeah, but we’ll get there.” [Y/N] offered a half smile at him. “No one’s asking you to be Steve Jobs after a day,” she tried to encourage him but his face was blank yet again. “Who the fuck is that?” He asked, to which she sighed gently. “…never mind, it’s not important. What I meant is that none of us are expecting you to know how to use it all within the blink of an eye.” She replied before moving her gaze back to the phone. He peered over at the phone while knitting his brows together. None of it made any sense to him. Now the screen was black again, before the stupid symbol popped up. “..the fuck is it doing now?” He asked, moving his glance to her face. “It’s updating the software,” she spoke before shifting it to an analogy he’d understand. “..which is like maintenance on a car kind of—it makes sure everything’s working and also is.. replacing the parts in a sense. Fixing things that weren’t working and replacing them with things that will work and hopefully work better.” It took a second, but the analogy did help. “Makes sense I guess.” He spoke, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes watched for a moment before he became bored, so, he did what he usually did and turned his attention to whoever was occupying the space with him. “So tell me, how’d a gorgeous gal like you get tangled up with a fucker like Butcher anyhow?” She laughed softly but she didn’t look up at him this time. Mostly to hide the fact that she was blushing just a little. [Y/N] knew that she shouldn’t be feeling this way, by all accounts this man was still Soldier Boy. He wasn’t a good person, but the more she spent time with him the more she realized he was letting her see the man behind the persona and maybe.. maybe there was more than what he’s done in the past. After all she was preaching sympathy just moments prior. “Flattery will not get you out of the tech lesson, but since it’s updating you’ve got a little wiggle room.” She took a gentle breath before beginning to tell a very condensed version of events. “Becca, Butcher’s wife, she was my mom’s best friend. When my mom got killed in a car wreck, Becca sort of.. became my maternal figure.” Ben nodded, feeling some of the strings attached to his heart pulling. “I’m sorry about that, doll.” It was the least he could say. “Where the hell was your dad?” He asked, not knowing subtly if it were to bite him on the ass. She sighed gently. “Couldn’t tell you, never met him.” Ben could sympathize with that in a way, his own father being a piece of shit and all. “Sorry ‘bout that too.” He spoke, keeping his gaze on her own. She simply nodded before the phone’s screen lit up in the bright colors again, signifying that the software update had been completed. Picking the phone up, [Y/N] swiped up to begin the process of actually setting things up. “Okay, back to this-“ she spoke but was immediately cut off by Ben’s loud groaning. “Fuck sakes, is this really necessary?” He grumbled, which caused the woman next to him to roll her eyes. “You already know the answer to that.” Again he grumbled, acting like a mix between a grumpy old man and a stubborn child. “If this was forty years ago and some fine piece of ass was trying to tell me I had to do somethin’..” She turned and her [Y/E/C] eyes met his face with a pointed glare. There was a momentary pause as Ben contemplated whether or not to continue.

However, he was mischievous by nature and so he opted to continue on with his train of thought. “..I’d have grabbed her by her pretty little chin and talked her into getting on her knees so I could show her a better way to use that mouth.” [Y/N] again rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she brushed it off and moved on immediately though Ben was wearing a little smirk. “Picturing it, aren’t ya’?” He asked, clearly attempting to make the woman flustered. She turned her gaze back towards him with a blank expression upon her face. “Picturing me, punching you in the face? Absolutely I am.” She answered, which had Ben’s smirk fall completely. “You new age women, chicks in my day would’ve been creaming their panties at the chance to get with Soldier Boy.” Ben grumbled, irritation showing on his face. It was amusing to [Y/N] that he thought he’d get her to crumble so easily. Pushing herself up into a better position she’d lean the phone towards the Supe. “Alright, so I made two emails—one has the Soldier Boy name on it, just in case there’s.. I don’t know people that have business offers or something. Granted, that’s if we all live and you don’t get thrown into jail or whatever they do to other Supes and the other is for, well, more personal shit. That’s the one I was telling you about when I mentioned it initially, the one that’s tied into everything on the phone. I downloaded some stuff but now you need to try it.” She handed the phone over to Ben, praying he wasn’t gonna break this one. It was clear that he was trying to hold it gently, which would’ve made her giggle out loud—however the man was in an overly sensitive state and she wasn’t going to push that. “Alright, so tap the icon that says ‘App Store’ and wait for it to open.” [Y/N]’s voice was gentle and Ben nodded, putting his finger over the square with that name underneath it. However he left it there and so the apps began to all shake. “What the fuck is happening?!” He exclaimed, to which she gently moved her hand and pressed the button labeled ‘done’. Now the apps went back to being still and she sighed. Gently she grabbed his index finger and lightly pulled it towards the screen again, Ben wanted to grumble but he was too distracted by how her fingers felt against his own. Where his skin was rough, battle tested and calloused.. hers was soft, maybe a scar here and there but nothing compared to his and the contrast? It was more enjoyable than he’d ever admit out loud. [Y/N] pulled his finger down toward the screen and gently tapped it against the screen to open the app. “You just gotta tap, see.” She spoke, letting go of his finger. “Huh.” He replied, but it wasn’t very loud. “Now typing on these things is probably gonna annoy you, it annoys us all and we’re used to the technology. Just.. try to not freak out and break it yeah? Shit is easy for you to snap, given y’know..” After she said that, she couldn’t help but to chuckle. When she did Ben felt himself smirking just a little. There was a split second where their eyes met and lingered, before she spoke up again. “Alright, so if you just click on this one it’ll take you to the place where you can download them. I think most things that are necessary for now are already there but I wanted you to know how to do it, so.. you like sports right?” She asked, tone kept gentle. “Uh, yeah, obviously little less on the up and up these days.” He replied, to which she nodded. “Alright well type in ‘MLB’ right there in that search bar, click it first though.” [Y/N] explained and for a moment Ben just stared at her, as if she had three heads. Eventually though he moved his gaze to the phone and tapped the screen over the search bar, which brought up the keyboard. “So.. these fucking things are called apps?” He asked, typing the three letters slowly into the bar and then she pointed to the blue button labeled ‘search’, which he tapped before looking up at her again.

“Yeah, they have one for just about everything these days.” She replied, pointing to the button that said ‘get’. Ben tapped it and the symbol to signify it was downloading appeared. Once it had finished, she smiled slightly before reaching underneath his arm for a second. “So, to close an app, you just swipe up like this.” Gently she placed her thumb on the screen and swiped upward to bring the phone back to the Home Screen. “Now, that closes it for the moment. Swiping up in a short motion brings up all the open ones like this-“ she explained, demonstrating. “Once they’re up like this you can swipe up again and fully close them.” She closed all of the currently open apps to demonstrate to him how to do it. “You really think I’m gonna remember all this shit?” He asked, almost glaring when he looked in her direction. It was a lot of information to take in, so she took a gentle breath and locked the phone. “Okay, fair, let’s take a break then.” [Y/N] placed Ben’s phone on the bed between them and slowly pulled out her own. He couldn’t help it, curiosity took hold and he glanced over. “You can put pictures on that thing?” He asked, noticing her Lock Screen photo of a drawing of the moon. Quirking a brow for a moment, she then figured out what he meant. “Oh, yeah! You can. Did you wanna do that on your phone?” Her voice was sweet as their eyes met yet again, bringing back the slight tension that continued to linger between them. “Fuck it, shit looks better than whatever the fuck it comes with.” He replied after a moment or so of silence. “Do you have anything specific you want?” She reached up with her free hand and tucked some of her [Y/H/C] hair behind her ear. Ben’s expression was pensive for a moment or so as he tried to think of anything he’d like to have as a background on the phone. “I dunno, just find something badass—none o’ that girly shit.” She shook her head before thinking herself, trying to figure out something she could use. “I’m gonna go take a leak.” He spoke up, pushing his frame up and off of the bed before grumbling about something and making his way over to the bathroom door. Once he’d closed it, she thought for another second before smiling to herself. Lifting the phone up at a decent angle, she quickly opened the camera app and primped herself slightly—snapping a couple of pictures of herself right after. Flicking through the few she found the one she liked the most and made it his Lock Screen wallpaper. Thumbs darted across the screen and within another two minutes or so, spent entirely on Google, she’d found a nice photo of Ben’s shield. It worked well for a Home Screen.

It wasn’t long after that [Y/N] heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, seconds passing before the door was pulled open and Ben re-entered the bedroom. Lifting her gaze up to meet him, his green eyes held something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She gently laid his phone onto the mattress and kept her attention on him while he sat back down onto the bed. “Are we doing more of this shit? ‘Cause I think my fuckin’ brain might implode.” His voice was deep, housing a distinct rasp to it. [Y/N] couldn’t help but to chuckle at the old man antics he was displaying before answering the question. “No, I think we’ll save some lessons for another day. After all, there’s much more than just the phone you’re gonna need to learn.” After she’d spoken, he groaned for what felt like the millionth time. “It’s amazing how you bounce between acting like a senior citizen and acting like a teenage boy.” Her voice held a humorous tone as she again chuckled, it was Ben’s turn to now offer her a pointed glare but there was definitely a layer of amusement behind it. Just as he was about to offer up a retort, the bedroom door was pushed open and Butcher popped his head in. “Oi [Y/N], need ya’ to come help Frenchie with a little project.” His accent was thick and his eyes held a wild expression that was pretty standard for the man. [Y/N] sighed and slowly pushed herself up from the mattress, but turned towards Ben with a gentle smile. “If you have any questions just.. come find me.” He nodded, because his brain wasn’t sure how to react to the little smile on her lips. Sure there was a lot of unholy and downright vulgar thoughts swimming around in his noggin about her, there had been since he laid eyes on her—however there was something more that lingered and that was causing a short circuit in his mind. She turned back to the Brit and groaned. “This better not be anything messy because the last time-“ she was cut off by Butcher’s laugh. “It ain’t, I swear.” [Y/N] rolled her eyes as the two left the room, closing the door behind them. After a couple of minutes Ben remembered [Y/N] lecturing him about locking the goddamned phone, but she had left it unlocked. Pushing the button he heard the clicking noise, but tapped onto the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally turned it off somehow—and that’s when he saw it. There underneath the time and the other bullshit, was a picture of her and her smiling face. Since he was by himself, he didn’t have his guard up and his lips curled upward into a smile. “Pretty lil’ lady.” He spoke out loud, his heart feeling something he’d not felt in quite some time.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi guys! I am soooooo sorry about how long this took. Between writer’s block and my fear of it sucking, I was just struggling for a while. This is my first attempt at writing for Ben so if it’s bad, I’m sorry! He’s a more complex character to nail in writing and hopefully I’ll get better at it over time. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @stillhere197 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @aylacavebear @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @jc-winchester ✤ ٠ —– • ·

[deansbite]

　　　𝒥𝒞　　｡　　you get what you ask for

pairings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　afab!reader x soldier boy / ben

warnings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　18+ mdni !!　kinktober　pillow humping　dry humping　humiliation　degrading　praise　orgasm denial　mentions of spanking　irritated!ben　needy!reader　implied bratty!reader　voyeurism (fav funky word)

summary　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　ben had reached his breaking point with you, little did you know that he would be taking it out on you. You knew you wanted his attention, very greedy for it in fact, but you didn’t know how humiliating it was from your perspective. How do you like it now having your orgasm privileges taken away from you?

READERS POV

　 　 ════ 　⋆　❜𓏲　⋆ 　════

You truly don't know how you even got into this situation. It was humbling, you went from testing Ben’s limits over and over again and riling him up, to having a pillow propped up between your legs. You wanted attention, yeah.. but this? This just made you feel smaller and smaller by the second with how Ben was staring you down. He was sat across from you, in an arm chair. He was leaned back, relaxed and his arms were crossed. You notice his eyebrow raise in expectation.

“Whatcha waitin' for, sweetcheeks? Thought you wanted this.. thought you wanted my attention?” he taunted, just ever so slightly — but the tone of his voice was so soft, but you and he both were on the same page when it came to agreeing that he was irritated with you. You batted your eyelashes at him, maybe to sort-of calm him down. Although he refused to budge. “Come on, raw dog that pillow like you usually do when you miss me.” he said it in a tone that would make you think he was suggesting you to do it.

But you knew better than to piss ben off twice. Sure, he was a giant bear and much, much more gentle when it came to you. Despite that, he still tamed you in a way. He wasn't ever violent. 'Cause god knows he could snap you in half like a twig in a second if he wanted too. Though he did occasionally spank you, the degradation, but you were used to it. One thing he hadn't done with you yet was you humping a soldier boy pillow in front of his very eyes.

You did tell him about it, when he went out you would occasionally hump the very special pillow he had bought for you and the exact same pillow he told you how he wanted you to hump it when he went out on missions with Billy, Hughie, MM, Frenchie and Kimiko who tagged along for Frenchie. nothing new, of course, yet still embarrassing.

So, before you could agitate Ben any further, you ground your hips down on the pillow. You had your panties seperating your basically aching core from the fabric you were grinding against. Your breath hitched and your head was thrown back after a couple more minutes of the same, repeated motion. It was a swift and smooth looped movement. “Eyes on me or the pillow, darlin'.” His voice dragged you out of your current thoughts and you immediately nodded, eyes focused on emerald green eyes that were practically boring into your skull.

“And I want a clear, verbal response from ya the moment you're about to cum, mkay, sweetheart?” Ben told you, his tongue darting out his mouth to apply a thin, glossy coat of saliva that sat perfectly on his plump lips. “Hey, I asked you somethin', answer me." and, you hadn't answered after a couple of minutes, so, he started speaking again. "Hey, look at me, or is your pretty little mind filled with dirty thoughts of me. hmm? Fuckin' whore. When I ask somethin' you damn well know to answer. Just like when you ask me sumthin' you get what you ask for, don'tcha baby?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The words caused an immediate reaction out of you, your eyes widened and a light pink hue appeared on your cheeks. You swallowed thickly, gathering all possible thoughts. “And I didn't tell you to fuckin' stop, now, did I? Come on, I knew you became a good little cockwhore for me when I fill your cunt up all nice like a good bitch. But I didn't expect you to become all incoherent and brainless 'cause of a goddamn pillow." He scoffed to himself. "Guess anything can turn you on.” the absolute filth escaping his lips caused your body to react — whether you wanted, too or not.

Your hips got back to work, hands gripping onto the fabric with Bens face on it, your pussy rubbing against the material of your panties and the soft object. Strings of moans and curses escaping your lips that could put a sailors mouth to shame. All in the meanwhile, you could see Ben shift ever so slightly in the armchair, his arms still crossed over his chest and just.. watching.

This was beyond humiliating. You were basically naked — only thing covering you up being your underwear, so the cool air hit your chest and you were panting. Not to mention, you just felt yourself heating up more and more even when you started to think it would stop.

You started to try to get off more, by imagining Bens hands running all ovef your body, stopping at your hips and gripping onto them with that strong grip of his, he would tease just in the slightest bit — and then finally connect his tongue to your entrance -

Before you realized it, you felt your orgasm forming in the pit of your stomache, the stimulation against your cunt and the filthy things that left Bens mouth and the way he was watching without even doing anything was just too much. “I'm about.. I'm about —” you were stumbling over your words as your movements got sloppier and uncoordinated, just seeking release without much thought behind it.

You were right on the edge until it all came to an abrupt stop. You were stopped dead in your tracks and you, very rightfully, were confused. You slowly had felt a grip on your hips. You let out a pathetic whine and glanced at Ben, you didn't even notice him walk over to you. He had a neutral expression and maybe even a little annoyed. “Told you to tell me when you were gonna cum, hm? Can't even follow simple orders. Exactly why I should fill your mouth if you ain't even gon' use it right, sweetcheeks.” he paused, "Or maybe.. I should just not give you what you ask for. Leave you all pent up and leave you to wait for the next time I’ll use you again, isn't that right, doll?"

Before you could even get a word out, he let go of your hips, reached between your legs and in a painfully slow way, grabbed onto the pillow and removed it from between your thighs. Leaving you pretty much dissatisfied and your own arousal and slick coating your underwear which was.. in one word, uncomfortable.

"Made a fuckin' mess on my face, baby." he tutted, point out the wet patch over his face on the fabric of the pillow. "If I find out you pleased yourself, you'll be in a lot of trouble. I mean it, doll. Don't test me with this. You've pissed me off more than enough today." he shoved the pillow under his armpit and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before he pulled away as soon as he connected his with yours.

"I know your body well enough to know if you lie, baby." he warned one last time before he exited your shared bedroom. You felt the cool air hit you and your uncomfortable ache and the high that you were about to reach was sizzling down.

　 　 ════ 　⋆　❜𓏲　⋆ 　════

okay this was actually my first EVER smut fic i wrote in like. laate august or start of october i dont remember but this freak @fourkilljoys proofread it n i am surely not reading this shit again so!!!! heh.. i hope u enjoyed

tags: @pearlzier @fallbhind @beausling @dollsltt @psychicnatural @deanswidow @gibson-g1rl @fourkilljoys

amab vers: right here

[dadsbongos]

supe soldier at attention (for hours)

1.6k words / warnings - reader bimbofication (light), soldier boy is himself, very toxic kinda rapey mindset on this guy

summary - left to babysit the 100+ year-old by yourself, you make a bet you soon regret with Soldier Boy.

kinktober: day seven - humiliation, objectification @maniacpixiedreamboy is here!!!! ~~~

You’re so ashamed, but you cannot help yourself. It’s too late for you and your morals: you want to bite him, you want to kick him, your leg erratically thrums against the floor and your eye starts twitching when you look at him. Sadly, not even out of annoyance.

He’s fucking gorgeous. You want him to die.

“If you just got on your back you’d be happier,” Ben has the cockiest squint to his eyes, “Loosen up a bit, smile more, and you can get a man. Men hate hysterics, rocket.”

“Stop calling me ‘rocket’.”

“It’s a compliment!” he cringes when your scowl only deepens, “Can’t fucking give a compliment these days?”

“It’s not a compliment, it’s degrading, and you’re the worst man I’ve ever been forced to interact with.”

Hughie is another man you think should drop dead, even though you usually like him. Usually you think he’s thoughtful and kind, but today he’s left you alone with Benjamin. Dreaded Soldier Boy. Butcher’s ace in killing Homelander. You’re not sure the stress of having him around is worth a quicker victory.

Ben cocks his head at you, brow raised, “Dollface, if I reached into your pants right now you’d be soaking.”

“Try it and I’ll break your hand.”

“As if you fucking could,” Ben snorts, leaning back against the opposite end of the couch with folded arms, “You look like a gambling soul, let's put numbers down.”

“Fine. I win and you shut the fuck up anytime I’m in the room,” you uncross your legs, thighs spreading along the motel couch cushion. Confident you can maintain composure even with his hand on you.

“When I’m right,” he rocks forward onto a knee, with the other leg propped against the floor, “I’m gonna make you see God, finally put a fucking smile on that sour ass face.”

Ben surprises you by not instantaneously jamming a hand into your business. Rather, he slowly sears his palm up the plump of your inner thigh, face closing on yours. Green eyes study how your breath hitches, heat radiating off your cheeks and lapping his. He squeezes your thigh suddenly, plying the fat and skimming a thumb high toward the hem of your underwear.

“That’s not fair,” you chide petulantly.

“Shouldn’t matter,” he continues, breath fanning your cheek and fingers digging beneath the leg of your panties, “If you don’t want me, you won’t be wet either way.”

Your eye does twitch with annoyance now. Just as you go to yank his hair or pull his ears or spit in his eye, he’s tugging your underwear down and tucking fingers into the divot between your thighs. Warm fingertips slipping along the seam of your cunt, he laughs in your rapidly cooking face. Reveling in your wispy gasp when he strokes two fingers over your weepy hole, thumb rolling your clit.

Hips snap against his hand, nails drilling bluntly into his wrist, “Fuck you!”

“Like a faucet,” he muses, “You brats love pretending to be tough. Need someone to fuck you boneless and remind you of your place.”

“You’re the worst!” your voice jumps when he spoons a finger inside you, slithering his other arm around your shoulders to cradle you against his broad chest.

Ben condescendingly scruffs his cheek against your head, adding a second digit.

You hadn’t thought being wrong, in the nightmarish scenario you were trapped in, would matter because he’s supposed to be bad at this. He’s supposed to rub the crease of your thigh or blandly jab you off for fifteen minutes to no avail before getting bored.

He’s not supposed to know how to swivel your clit with rhythm, and he’s not supposed to know to curl fingers towards the pouch of your stomach. He’s not supposed to tweak your nipple or fondle your chest to any success. He’s not supposed to make slick gush and marr the couch cushions.

“Oh, fuck, fuck you,” you whine, head burying into his neck to hide from the sight of yourself humping his hand.

“Gotta spread this pussy open first,” he grunts, practically searing your crotch how hard he’s staring. Fingers scissoring apart, stretching your walls.

When your huffs and coos progress into moans muffled against a bitten lip, Ben tightens up -- using his arm muscles to finger-fuck you harder. Rapidly losing traction the more slick drools out of you, Ben abandons thumbing your knob completely. Letting the meat of his palm roughly grind against you instead. Your body jostles under such attention, and he nearly rips your shirt off with the hand previously squeezing your chest for a better view.

The new position and breakneck motion has you splashing, lewd sucking festering through the room.

“S’fucking wet, rocket,” he slurs against stray hairs, panting onto your scalp with tight puffs, “What do you say, can you take it right now?” you hum non-committedly, by far more interested in how your thighs are tensing and gut churning, “C’mon, gambler, make another bet. Think I’ll make it inside? Or will I just slip right fucking out of this wet cunt?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

pap!

Your cheek stings faintly, his palm just above the sore flesh. Slight pain sparks from the tail of your earlobe, rounding your cheek, and spiking the corner of your lips. From there it fizzles to pleasure and you’re moaning. Legs spreading wider as if he could get anymore welcome between them.

To your shock, the bastard slapped you -- and to your horror, you actually liked it.

“Don’t be rude, rocket, I’m doing your pretty pussy a favor,” then he’s sliding out of you.

“No, no, no…” you snivel, shaky thighs desperately trying to clamp shut around his sodden hand. Just before you can mumble out a ‘please’, you silence yourself. No way are you that hot for him.

Ben clicks his tongue, shaking his head and wrangling you by the backs of your knees so you're laid on the cushions. Sousing your bare ass in your own fresh made puddle. Furiously schucking down his own pants to expose himself, Ben then lays your thighs against his chest. Ankles left dangling over his shoulders.

“I was close,” you frown up at him.

“I know,” he replies flippantly, slapping the flushed head of his cock over your mound, smearing pre-cum over your glossy slit, “But your attitude was shit, and I’m not giving out charity orgasms to mean sluts.”

“Hey!” you scoff, following derision interrupted when he thrusts inside -- punching out a breathless, raspy, “Said ‘hey’!” from the bowels of your lungs.

“Speak up, then,” he leans, louring over you solely to crush your knees against your shoulders, “What?”

“‘m not a slut!” your voice waivers.

Laughing, again, in your face, Ben winks all smarmy and grotesque and punch-able, “Obviously. Sluts get dick, you’re just playing pretend.”

Any offense you could vocalize is chopped short as he bruises his pelvis to yours. Leisurely pulling out to admire the sheen you’ve webbed down to his balls before pushing back into you. A meager whimper is all you can manage, his cock hot and heavy and splitting you wide. You’re not sure if it’s the weight against your chest or raw delusion, but you swear you feel him in your throat.

“Can’t breathe,” you wheeze up at him.

He grunts low, chest vibrating against the backs of your thighs, swallowing hard, “Squeezing me good, rocket. You like that?” one of his hands cinches the sides of throat, slowly building pressure, “You like being choked?”

You sputter, hips thrashing to sink his cock deeper in you. That's answer enough.

“You might be a genuine slut, then, doll. Sloppy and happy to get slapped and choked, you’re a messy fucking bitch.”

Despite your previous reservations, Ben can feel you spasm around him. He thrives off it.

Unfurling the fingers around your neck, Ben keeps his palm settled over your windpipe while arresting your jaw. Teeth grit and pace quickening, he nearly growls, “Say it, rocket. You wanna cum, don’t you?”

Pathetically, you nod, tears beading your lashes. All from some cock battering your insides.

“Say it.”

“I’m a slut!”

He withdraws, histrionically slow, “Doesn’t sound like you want it enough.”

“Please!” you cross your shins over his back, ankles locking, and fully wail all dignity out the window, “I’m a real slut! Rocket’s a slut!” you’ll say anything just to gain his favor right now, “I’m your slutty rocket, Soldier Boy, please I wanna cum!”

“That’s fucking right, baby,” he returns to squeezing your throat, using the iron grip to pull you into his every thrust, “Keep screaming for me like a nice cunt.”

Mouth agape, you unleash debauched moans and squeals as that delicious tingle rages hotter and hotter from hips to chest. Sizzling you from the inside out until you’re throwing your head back and raking nails over his hand, arms, and back; any skin you can grapple.

“Fuck, fuck, ah! Ben!”

“Cumming on me, rocket,” phrased like a question, but you both know it isn’t. He’s too arrogant to even hint at amazement, “So much prettier for me like this.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, even as he twitches and splatters inside you. And frustratingly even as he’s cumming you’re the one to cry out,

“Oh! Hah.. ohmyGod!”

“Yeah, that’s it. Feeling nice now, dollface?” he prompts, patting your cheek with the hand he used to choke you, “Give me a smile, pretty thing.”

You don’t have the energy to roll your eyes, only scraping enough strength together to grin up at Ben. Lips pressing tightly.

“Show me teeth,” his hips roll into you again, earning an overstimulated sulk, “I can keep this up all night.”

You comply, baring teeth in a full, albeit exhausted, beam.

Ben squishes your cheeks, murmuring low enough to mistake as being only for his ears (you’re sure he means for you to hear him, though), “Total fucking rocket, baby.”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Open Mic Night

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  Soldier Boy and the reader go to a bar on a double date with Hughie and Annie. This takes place beyond season three in alternate universe. Reader is a supe. This technically takes place in my series "Take A Chance On Me," after Soldier Boy and the reader have become a couple, but can be read as stand alone. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Fluff, Age Difference, Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Established Relationship

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure because this fic contains dude being super creepy and sleazy, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, references to past sex, and Soldier Boy. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. This is my first time writing for Soldier Boy, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Series Masterlist

*********************************************************

Music swung low and heavy over the crowded bar from the band on the stage that dominated the central wall of the building. Speakers stood like stoic watchmen, thumping and blasting the haunting music on each side of the stage. Spotlights stung the air, spewing colors of orange, yellow, and green onto the figures that writhed on stage.

It was open mic night. That much was inferred from the collection of mismatched people swarming the edge of the stage where a bouncer stood holding a black clip board.

Each one pushed and shoved, trying to shout over the death march ballad flowing from the lead singers mouth and threatening one another with musical instruments clutched in their hands.

The song is an odd choice. You thought to yourself noting the outfit of the lead singer. He was wearing a bright red and yellow pinstriped suit that clashed with bright pink hair that fell past his waist and was braided away from his face.

How does it not get caught in his guitar?

You were still standing just inside the doorway, staring beyond Hughie to watch the lead singer gyrate and writhe against the standing microphone.

You glance over at Ben. He’s hovering by your right elbow, mouth turned down in disgust, but even frowning he looks just as handsome as ever. His dark hair lies in soft waves over his brow, he trimmed his beard so that it’s more of a dusting over his cheeks and chin, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that makes his eyes a dangerous bright green and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Even without his suit he looks flawless, every bit the hero that people believed him to be.

“I don’t understand music nowadays.” Ben continues to stare at the lead singer. "It used to make sense."

“Isn’t he talented?” You laugh elbowing Ben in the side. “Aren’t you glad we let Annie pick the place?”

“I definitely am.” Hughie responds. “I think my life has been enriched by watching that man hump the microphone.”

“Oh definitely.” Annie adds.

“Do you think he’d sign my butt?” You ask enthusiastically. “I carry a sharpie with me at all times just for this possibility.”

“Y/n-“ Annie snorts.

“What?” Ben snaps, turning to look down at you. His eyes are narrowed in jealousy and confusion.

“I’m only kidding Gramps.” Your hand entwines with his. “You’re the only one who gets to see it.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but the nickname you assigned him when you first met often makes him angry.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ben mutters.

“You know you love it.” You whisper back.

“Ew. So don’t need that image-“ Hughie makes a face.

“I don’t need to hear it from you. When we all lived in that safe house and you and Annie had ‘alone time’ I wanted to wash my ears out with soap. Y’all could at least have gone to a room on the other side of the apartment, not to mention Annie took out the power every time.”

“You have super hearing Y/n.” Annie’s face flushes. “And you and Ben weren't exactly quiet either.”

"I won't apologize for that." You shrug.

Someone comes in the double doors behind you and jostles past you. You stumble into Ben’s chest, who steadies you with a hand on your waist. The man doesn't turn around to apologize, instead he continues to walk towards the giant wooden bar on the left side of the room.

You ignore the urge to haul him back by the back of the shirt and make him apologize and one look up at Ben lets you know that he's thinking the exact same thing.

Ben watches the man’s retreating figure murderously and opens his mouth, but before he yells something, you squeeze his hand. Ben's gaze drops to you, anger burning behind his green eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s busy and there’s a lot of people. It happens.” You whisper trying to bring him some comfort.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the double date. It wasn’t that he hated Hughie or Annie, you think it was because after a long day he’d rather spend time with you than keep up appearances. When Annie suggested it, it had seemed like a good idea but now standing here in the overcrowded bar it was overwhelming. Ben and you had been on dates just the two of you in a bar before, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or as crowded as this one. You spent the night in one of the quiet booths in the corner, his arm wrapped around you while you listened to the music coming from the juke box, music that Ben actually recognized. Sometimes you think he liked quiet restaurants more, where he could breathe, and relax in a booth next to you. You think being around too many people activated his PTSD.

Ben frowns, but tightens his hand on your hip.

Sometimes you thought that you being there helped. As much as Ben didn't like to admit his feelings, you noticed that his actions spoke more. The way that he let you hold on to his arm or the way that his hand often drifted to your waist when in public made you believe that Ben did depend on having you with him. Plus he never seemed to want to let you go out of the apartment alone. Even with something as mundane as grocery shopping, Ben would come with you. And despite him sighing each time you walked down an aisle and complaining under his breath, Ben wouldn't stay at the apartment when you told him to.

Plus there were the mornings when you woke up before him and noticed how he pulled you to him in his sleep or the mornings when he woke up first and didn’t push you away, instead he liked having your head on his chest watching your gentle breath.

However, the look in his eyes as he gazed around the room at the crowd was not calm or collected, it was bordering on manic. He looked almost like he wanted to pick you up and move you to the corner, caging you in and fighting off anybody who tried to get close to you.

“Hey we are going to go get drinks. Why don’t you guys find us a place to sit?” You say to Annie.

Maybe I need to talk to him alone.

“Sure.” She doesn’t sense Ben’s discomfort and pulls Hughie in the direction of an empty booth that lines the wall opposite the bar.

You gently lead Ben through the crowds, past the bar to a small alcove where the restrooms are.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah?" Ben raises his eyebrow and you can imagine his thoughts.

Probably revolving around the idea that he's not a pussy and that he's not afraid of anything.

Sometimes you hated that Ben was so guarded and that his usual emotions circled around borderline toxic masculinity, annoyance, and anger. Well, until you started dating. At the beginning Ben had been nicer to you than anyone else, which meant those three emotions appeared less when you were around. But now, you were slowly coaxing him out of his tough exterior to get him to open up more, difficult, but not impossible.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he opened up more to you. In the few months you had been dating he was already doing better than when you first met- when there was a constant parade of women through the apartment and he tried his upmost to get in your pants. 

“Because if you’re not we can leave right now. I can tell Annie that I’m having bad cramps or something and we can go home. Get a pizza delivered or something? Watch one of your old films?” You look into his face, trying to read his expression, but Ben has mastered the art of hiding his emotions. An infuriating skill, because you prided yourself on being able to read people.

“I’m fine.”

“Ben-“

“I promise I’m fucking fine.” He snaps.  His broad figure blocks the view of the singer on stage who has begun to gyrate again.

You hoped the song would be over soon. 

Despite his tone, it didn't make you angry. You knew that he tended to slip into annoyance when he was afraid to tell you what he really thought.

He doesn’t look fine. His eyebrows are pulled down low over his eyes and his mouth is turned down in a frown.

“I’m serious. I won’t be mad if you just want to go home, just the two of us. Being out is supposed to be fun and if you’re not having fun-“

“I swear I’m having as much fucking fun as I can listening to terrible music.” He doesn’t smile.

You release his hand and your fingertips raise to brush back some of his dark locks that have fallen into his eyes. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you-“

 He sighs leaning into your touch.

“I know you think that you have to do this for me, but I’m okay with just going. I know you don’t like crowds or people.” You smile at him, putting as much love and comfort as you can into your tone.

“I’m okay y/n.”

You search his gaze for the lie, trying to uncover how he feels, but you find nothing. “Okay.”

You arch upwards to kiss him hoping that it will relieve some of the tension he was holding in his muscular shoulders.

To say it works is an understatement. As soon as your lips touch his, he backs you against the wall and continues to kiss you feverishly, his hand finding your waist.

I guess that’s one way to channel all that nervous energy.

Ben’s hand begins to sweep lower along your back to grab your butt and bring your leg up over his hip, holding you up against him so you don't have to stretch as far to kiss him. It makes you smile into his mouth, knowing that he was doing that for you, that he cared enough to make sure you were comfortable.

“Ben-“ You breathe.

“What?” He smirks at you. “Didn’t you want me to have a good time?”

“Well yes but-“

“You aren’t having a good time?”

“Ben-"

“No? I think I can make you have a good time, a few times before Hughie and Annie notice we're gone.” He begins to nudge you backward in the direction of the bathroom.

“No.” You giggle pushing against his muscular chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on doll. Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?” Ben pouts, before bringing his lips down to your ear. "I definitely think you'd enjoy yourself." A shiver travels down your spine. "That's my girl." He smirks, as he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Ben, I do want you to enjoy yourself, but I also don't want to have a good time in the bathroom at a bar.”

“Didn’t stop us last time.” He arches a brow.

“That was much cleaner and we weren’t at a bar with two of our friends.”

Ben frowns at you.

“How about you get me a little drunk, we dance for a bit, and then you get to take me home.” You press a kiss just under his ear, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Or we go into the bathroom for 10 minutes then you get me drunk enough to dance and then you get to take me home.” His hand tightens just under your thigh, rubbing his thumb against your soft jeans.

“Ben.”

“You know you want to.” He grins wolfishly. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

He didn’t have to say it. You were wearing a green top that showed a little more cleavage than usual and your best pair of jeans that hugged your curves. The same pair of jeans that usually made Ben handsy. You had also spent an inordinate amount of time curling your hair before you left the apartment. Plus the green was exactly the same color as his suit, something that Ben loved was when you wore his color or his clothes.

“You have, several times. And I do, but please I don’t want to when our friends are out there waiting for us.”

He sighs, knowing that he’s lost. “Fine.”

Ben reluctantly lowers your legs to the ground, but you kiss him gently on the mouth to kiss away the frown that replaces the seductive smirk he had moments ago.

“Go on. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He steps around you.

“What?”

“I have to take a piss. Go on get the drinks. I’m gonna need a lot of them to get through that fucking music.”

“Beer?”

“Beer and a whiskey.” Ben winks as he closes the door behind him.

You take in a deep breath to cool down from whatever almost happened, but you saw your ability to say no as a personal victory. Ben was usually able to coax you into doing whatever he wanted.

You hate how easily he won.

You begin the slow trek back to the bar, weaving in and out of the people trying to get closer to the stage or just dancing along to the music. The previous band was gone, replaced by a man wearing a fedora and playing a saxophone. The melody was smooth, and reminded you of what you father used to listen to on long days after work.

Ben would like this song. You think to yourself. You suddenly wished that he was here so he could hold you and sway along to the music, but you knew that getting drinks was equally important.

It would probably take at least two glasses of whiskey to get him out on the dance floor.

You maneuver yourself between two people sitting on stools to talk directly to the bartender. “Hey can I get four bottles of beer and a whiskey.”

“What kind?” The bartender is a blonde girl, pretty, only a few years older than you, dressed in an electric green top and mini skirt.

“Do you have anything that’s really old?” You never got what kind of whiskey Ben liked, just that he often complained that the older stuff was better.

It was a common opinion he voiced.

“Yeah but it’s pricy.” She shrugs

“That’s fine.” You pull Ben’s debit card out of your pocket.

You thought it was weird to use his card, but he kept telling you to even though you didn’t have a shared bank account. One time you tried to pay him back, but he wouldn’t let you and said that it was the man's job to pay for everything.

Another time you tried to pay for dinner and he told you not to worry. But you still felt guilty.

Sometimes you felt like a sugar baby. Given the age difference, it was closer to reality than you would have liked.

You were living together, well, Ben lived in your apartment. He kept talking about moving to a nicer apartment and as much as you wanted to, one day you found him looking at apartments that were worth more than seven times the monthly rent that you were paying currently.

You were going to see one in a few days, but you still hadn’t admitted to him that you didn’t think you could afford it. The only thing that stopped you was how excited he got about going, about moving in officially together in a new apartment that you didn't want to say no. Seeing him excited about something so domestic warmed your heart.

You didn’t know how much money he had, you just knew it was more than you given the fact that he was such a big hero and that he used to be in movies.

You hadn’t had a solid job since you started working for Butcher, who would give you some money under the table but who knows where he got that. You had some money that you inherited from your parents when they died, but other than that, nothing. An unwelcome thought, given the indestructible nature of your powers, which meant there was the possibility you would live forever.

I’m gonna have to start budgeting better.

The bartender turns to look for the drinks, while you lean forward on the bar, closing your eyes to listen to the smooth jazz that floats over the crowd.

Someone’s hand slides down your back and grips your butt.

You snort, not opening your eyes. “Ben I thought I told you-“ You turn around to look at who you thought was Ben, but freeze when you realize it’s the pink haired singer from before.

“Hey baby.” The man smiles tightening his grip on your butt. “I saw you admiring me, thought I’d come say hello.”

“Um. Yeah. That didn’t happen, now can you please take your hand off my ass?” You ask forcing your voice into a cool collected tone.

“I think it did.” He doesn’t remove it, in fact he moves further into you, to pin you against the bar. “Did you like my song?”

“No.”

One word answers usually were a good way of telling people that you weren’t interested, but this man didn't seem to understand that.

“Aww that’s too bad. I’ve got a few others that I can show you. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“We’ll see that’s the thing. I’m not alone and I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to fuck off before I break your arm.”

“A little thing like you do that? Come on baby let’s be serious.”

By now every time he said little your eye twitched aggressively. You did a good job of pretending you weren't a supe on your days off. You hid really well in a crowd, a skill that helped you evade Homelander and Vought more than once. Of course it had its annoyances as well. Case and point.

“Trust me. Me breaking your arm is much better than the alternative.”

I should get rid of him before Ben gets out here. That will definitely not end well if he sees this guy.

“What’s the alternative?” He oozes moving so close to your face that you can smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“Well-“

The man is snapped upwards away from you and into the air.

Ben looks murderous. His usually bright green eyes have hardened into an emerald, his smile turned into a snarl. He’s holding the man by the front of his brightly striped suit, two feet off the ground, so close that Ben’s nose is almost brushing his.

“The alternative-“ Ben’s voice is a growl. “Is that I break your fucking face for touching my girlfriend.”

Why does he look so hot when he’s angry? You sigh to yourself, admiring the way his muscles tense under his black t-shirt as he holds the guy and how the shirt pulls up just enough for you to see the top of his hip where his low hanging blue jeans have fallen.

There’s something wrong with me.

“Whoa man I’m sorry I didn’t know she was yours.” The man stutters, holding on to Ben’s wrists where he still holds him in the air.

Ben is easily a foot taller than him and broader by a mile. Gazing down at him with enough hatred to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As much as you liked Ben like this, you knew you had to do something before Ben killed him. Because as much as he deserved a good beating, the man didn’t deserve to die.

“Ben put him down.” You say.

“No.”

“Ben please.” You put your hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the palm of your hand. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“But you are-“ His teeth are gritted together when he looks at you, green eyes blazing in fury. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t deserve to lose his life just because he felt up the wrong person in a bar.”

Ben’s jaw is locked together, nostrils flaring, but even you know that somewhere deep down he knows you're right. He turns his head to look back at the man. “You’re lucky that she’s more forgiving than I am.” Ben drops the man, who lands in a lump on the floor and turns to look at you.

Ben doesn’t look happy, but he still  takes your hand, preparing to shuffle you towards where Annie and Hughie are watching in horror.

But before Ben can say anything the man on the ground rolls to his feet, more gracefully than you would have guessed and lunges at Ben a small knife gripped in his left hand.

He really doesn’t know when to quit.

Although you know that a small knife will do little to Ben other than piss him off, you react. Before he can reach Ben, your free hand flashes out, fastening around the man's left wrist and you pull his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His arm jolts, the sharp snap of bone overshadows the jazz music, and the man falls to the ground clutching his ruined arm to his chest with a broken cry. All of this happens within five seconds, too fast for a normal person to see.

“Told you I would break your arm.” You say, pulling Ben away before he can do anything worse to him.

“What happened?” Annie asks eyes wide.

“Total jerk at the bar. I ordered drinks but I think it’ll be better if Ben and I leave.” You glance over at the bartender who is talking to the bouncer and gesturing over at you and Ben. “I already paid so y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Wait y/n we’ll come with you-“ Hughie says. His arm is draped around Annie’s shoulders where they sit in the booth. You think about letting them come with you, but they look so comfortable and they should enjoy their day off.

“No it’s okay.” You squeeze Ben’s hand. “I’m kinda wiped from today anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“Yeah.” You nod once, before smiling wide at Annie and Hughie. “Let me know if you find the next Billy Joel.”

“There can only be one!” Hughie shouts as Ben and you weave through the bar goers to avoid the bouncer.

When you finally get outside and start towards home, Ben finally speaks.

“We didn’t have to leave.” He’s still holding your hand tightly, but you can feel the heat of his anger stirring beneath the skin.

“Yes we did. The bouncer was coming.” You stop walking and turn to look up at him. “Plus. I thought it was incredibly hot that you went all Soldier Boy on that guy’s ass to defend my honor.” Your hand drags against his muscular chest, mouth turning up in a sexy smile.

“Oh did you? Because here I thought that you were angry. And that you were going to yell at me for not letting you handle it.” He tugs you forward so that your chests are pressed against one another.

“Nope. Why do you think we had to leave? I want to get you home asap.”

He runs his free hand through your hair, fastening it behind your head, to pull you against him for a searing kiss. “You know, I also thought it was pretty hot when you broke that guy's arm.” Ben whispers against your lips.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”

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Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Take A Chance On Me Series, please let me know :)

If you liked this fic, be sure to try out my other series You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

[timerevolt]

        The world was a cruel and unforgiving place. Lulu thought that kindness was one of the most important qualities an individual could have. “Well in this world, the bravest thing one can be is kind. I truly believe that.” She offered him a warm smile as she looked up at him. “No matter what the news tell you, it does not take super powers to be a hero. It’s the good you do – not how you do it.”

        “People only like me for one night.” Lulu admits honestly, fingers intwine in her golden locks. “I am not the type of girl people want to take home to their mother’s I suppose.” For a moment a sadness seemed to come over her. “That’s okay though. I get to meet so many interesting people.” She tries her best to shrug it off, but the truth was it did affect her.

        “I look forward to listening to whiney men with you.” Lulu teased, as that primarily was what grunge was in her opinion. But perhaps with a fresh set of eyes, she could enjoy it. She’d be willing to try it for him. “I can play it for you later.” When he mentions Billy Joel, she laughed. “I like that one. I do listen to some pop – especially from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Especially French synth pop, is so delicious.”

        “Hershell Gordon Lewis is known as the God Father of Gore. As he is considered to have made the first splatter film. The plot is about Gogo Dancers getting murdered – and a not so dynamic duo team up to solve the case. You got beautiful naked women, practical effects, and conflicting political messages. It is truly a masterpiece.” Slender hand clenched into a fist.

        “Good choice – I consider them more proto-punk. In the same genre as Velvet Underground and the Stooges.” Lulu could not stop the smile on her face, as she took the album and placed it on the vinyl player. “I am not a big fan of L.A. Punk – it’s too angry. I’m not a very angry person – so I cannot relate. Shall we sit handsome?" Head motioned over to the couch, as she extended her hand to him.

Hughie honestly wasn't sure that he did. Lulu really was cool and he was- him. It made him feel just a little better when she listed off what she saw was good about him. The last in the list struck a chord. For now, he wouldn't try to pry, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was a deeper meaning behind Lulu heralding kindness as the most important reason of the list. "I don't think anyone's ever called me impressive before." Hughie grinned, looking smug and proud of himself at this revelation.

Jesus, if she actually made a mixtape for him, Hughie might die on the spot. No matter what happened, if this would end up being just a one night stand, Hughie would still keep it forever. Things like that, totally unique and handmade, were important and precious. "What makes you think you'd need an excuse to see me again?" He teased, feeling that same, bubbly giddiness rise between the two of them.

Hughie didn’t miss that double entendre she fired his way, complete with a playful wink. “I’ll have to introduce you to Kurt Cobain sometime then,” Hughie grins. God, that little spin was adorable. She was getting cuter and cuter by the second. He’d let her show him anything if it made her that happy. He considered her question as he rifled through her vinyl collection. “I’ve not listened to that one. I’d say mine is… Get It Right The First Time by Billy Joel. Maybe.”

By genre and vibe. Lulu had a collection that would put some New York record shops to shame. Hughie was engrossed in rifling through, while still paying attention to what Lulu was saying. “I’ve never seen it before. It sounds cool. What’s it about?” he replied, with genuine interest. He’d seen the horror classics of the 20th century, but he hadn’t seen many of the cult classics, like Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!. It made Lulu even cooler that she had done.

Hughie finally looked up from her collection, taking the mug from her with a grateful smile and a word of thanks. He held up an album by the New York Dolls with a pin up girl emblazoned on it. “I thought this looked pretty cool.”

[bohemianblasphemy]

tumblr is severely lacking in the hughie department ;(( do you have any thoughts on the guy? appreciate it<3

oh my gosh i absolutely agree - i love hughie sm he needs more content on here <3

things hughie campbell would do bc i said so ✨

N/SFW

SFW

- oh my sweet baby hughie, you gorgeous man you would just be the best boyfriend.

- his kisses are sweet and gentle. lil pecks on the cheek every time he walks by you, comforting kisses to your forehead, to your hand - ALL THE KISSES.

- the poor guy has been through a lot. he considers you a safe person that he can go to for comfort. he will tell you about his trauma and by the end of it you’re both emotional and holding each other, reassuring him that you are going to be there for him always.

- he’d bring you trinkets he has found as a sign of affection and you keep them on your nightstand.

- he blushes whenever you’re around him, just the sight of you makes him smile and lightens up his day.

- is a sucker for hugs and cuddles. he loves being held and laying side by side with you, admiring your sleepy face in the morning.

- going to concerts together and being held in this arms during the cute romantic songs.

- he has a vinyl collection and he shows and play them for you. he also has a collection of songs that he listens to when he misses you on missions.

- Hugh Sr. would love you. he’d chew your ear off with stories of hughie when he was younger (much to the dismay of hughie) and he’d bring out the baby photos, which hughie is also mortified of- but he is happy that his dad adores you.

- he is one to take you to an aquarium for a date. he loves watching you stare at all the sharks and rays in the giant tanks. he’d jokingly point at the weird looking fish and go “that one is you.”

NSFW

- he’s a switch, but he prefers for you to take control. he likes to be told what to do and man will he be at your command.

- i think he is rather vanilla in the bedroom, but he is open to trying new things as long as you both are into it.

- he’s always asking if you’re okay, making sure that you’re not in pain or uncomfortable. your comfort is his priority and he will not move until you give him the green light.

- he likes missionary and cowgirl. in missionary he thrives on keeping eye contact, he will not his eyes off and you and likes to watch you cum. in cowgirl, he loves to look up at you in awe, watching you bounce on his and the noises you make.

- he holds hands during missionary. 🥺

- he has a massive praise kink, he needs to know that he’s doing a good job and making you feel good.

- he enjoys when you pull his hair and scratch his back, he enjoys a bit of pain.

- he loves going down on you, he wants to make you cum on his tongue at least twice to savour your taste. he loves when you go down on him too, he softly bucks his hips into your mouth and softly moans and tell you how good you feel.

- WHIMPERS AND BEGS. YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE DOESNT.

[staarboyyy]

Necessary evils | Negotiations chapter ii

Ben [ Soldier boy ] x reader | no pronouns

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; dubcon, reader has vagina, intoxication, weed use, cocaine mentions, slight angst, porn with a plot, destructive mutualization, lap sitting, pleasure denial, grinding ("the knee thing"), slight underwear fetish, m!masturbation, couch sex, free use elements, creampie, verbal threats, reader takes initiative (aka fucks around and finds out, with feelings!), is soldier boy a warning? if so, soldier boy antics!,

summary ; after the night in the alley, you cant help but wonder caused it all.

word count ; 5.3k

a/n ; [ Reposted with a full ending and edits ! Thank you for the support, even on accidental posts :"D] can be a stand-alone fic, but really meant to be a chapter 2 for my first fic on tumblr, Negotiations <3 thank you all for 200 followers, ill never be able to express the gratitude in my heart that has flourished in this community!! heres to writing format improvement, cheers! *tink!

Ben grunted as he pushed himself from the creaky motel couch, sighing quietly while his eyes scanned the room silently - As he landed on a small shoe box pushed underneath a desk, he bent at the waist to grab ahold of it, sliding it out with a hum. Upon flipping open the lip in time with sitting back down on the couch, made way for the harsh and bitter smell of weed and tobacco. His large hands sifted through the different items, plucking a glass pipe and grinder from the box and setting it next to him. The motions of this gave way for a strange familiarity, the smell, and movements of packing the bowl reminding him of hiding weed from his father decades ago. He was always insistent a boy like him should be 'straight-edge', clean, and practically from marble. He gave a quiet chuckle as he brought the pipe to his lips, glancing up at the ceiling. Before down towards the floor. No way in God's green earth had his father made it into Heaven. He gave a light stomp as he flicked the lighter over the bowl - It was muscle memory, though since his father died he made it a point that he'd never rest, not even after death. With a gracious inhale, Ben's lungs filled with smoke, pulling down the thickening barriers of his throat, mind reeling black and white grainy family photos. It made him sick to dwell on his family. Though the exhale cut sharp through his lips, throat stiffening at the burn that sliced that part away from him. He went in for another, heel coming down once more to thump against the floorboards, a smirk now pulling at the corners of his lips. Smoke filled the apartment, not unusual for this time of night, even as it made its way into your sleeping nostrils.

Working with Hughie and Butcher was not your intent. You told yourself this, as you watched the two men unfold into animals, lacing their arms with bands and injecting temp v at any opportune moment. It made it difficult to sleep, knowing the two were out at night, rampaging the streets in hopes of finding Soldier Boy's past team; And also the tense presence of Ben sitting on the couch, just a foot or two away. You stirred at the strong smell, shifting slightly as you adjust yourself on the worn-in couch, propping your elbow up on the armrest with a soft grimace. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but the exhaustion of the day had hit you like a freight train.

"How long was I out?"

"An hour or two. You fuckin' crashed, figured you'd need it."

Nights such as these came with a sense of peace; Like a lion and crane feeding at a watering hole, side by side with eyes unwavering as you do what they must to get by. The peace was faint, gritty between Ben's fingers as he packed a bowl down gently, shifting his jaw. He brought the lighter up to the pipe once again before his eyes set on you- The bowl sizzled as he inhaled, smoke drifting from his nostrils as he effortlessly pulled from the pipe, puffing it as if it were a cigar. His next motion came at a strange interception of his mind and body, hand moving to offer the lit pipe towards you. He gave no words, though it seemed he wouldn't have been able to conduct them into genuine conversation nonetheless.

Typically, you'd shake your head, or wave your hand, leaving the Supe to his devices - Though, the crickets shrouded the night air, pulsating through the thin windows and swelling at the shine of the moon, thick clouds parting like curtains to expose the soft light. This wasn't a night typical for you. You reached out, pursing your lips slightly as his rough skin grazed yours, his thumb lingering on your smaller fingers for a few moments. You tentatively brought the pipe to your lips, eyes casting over the man; He looked painfully human like this, relaxing back into the couch, spreading his thighs with a grunt as he looked back toward you quizzically. You pulled from the pipe, thumb pressing against the small hole, releasing as the bowl crackled a hot orange. The smoke cut down your throat in a harsh wave, coasting over your muscles with a hitched breath as your grip on the pipe tightened slightly, tears wetting the corners of your lashes at the fire lit in your lungs and throat. The smoke escaped you in small puffs, between coughs, dishing in the occasional sip of water from a crinkled 'room service' water bottle. It seemed to entertain Ben strangely, watching you quietly as you recovered from the harsh breath of smoke with an extended hand to take the glass piece back from you. The thick veil of smoke in the air twisted in ribbons as you spoke.

"Remember when you talked about our deal? What made you," You trailed off, recalling the night with a creeping burn ringing in your ears, the feeling of his hands seared into your mind.

"Mhm." Ben didn't miss a beat replying in a deep hum, his eyes now settled closed as he relaxed back into the couch with a sigh. "I don't know. "

He knew the question was coming, though with the anticipation came no rousing answer; In truth, he didn't know. He hadn't been drawn to you before that night, and now finding his pulse speeding due to just being in close proximity of you was... A shift. That was for sure. Ben shifted his jaw slightly, head leaning off to the side a bit. Sex was materialistic, something traded, an exchange - Kissing though. It made Ben's fingers clench into slight fists beside himself, pulling in a slow inhale as his mind returned back to the alley. Your lips against his. The thrum of Ben's heart began to pulse in his temples, rushing down his abdomen as he recalled the feeling of it all. His eyes opened, shifting his weight and keeping his gaze pinned to the space in front of him.  "You think I'm a bad guy?"

"...Yes." You weren't sure what he wanted to hear in that moment, his blue eyes fixated on the spot in front of him as your attention fell from his expression to his hands. How they fisted the spaces in the couch beside himself; Yet the geiger counter Hughie left behind remained still. Not rage, not frustration, or a slew of memories. You couldn't place what was eating away at him, not exactly. Though as you confessed yourself, in a single word - The first thing to come from Ben was a chuckle. His fists uncurled, clearing his throat as his eyes moved over the room with a shake of his head. The answer didn't seem to satisfy him - He didn't know your scale of what was and what was not bad, no way to place where he was in your mind, let alone on a metaphorical scale of morality. He brought a hand to his face, palm, and fingers rubbing at his stubble before looking over toward you. His expression was unreadable, not necessarily negative, the lingering breathy chuckle leaving behind the remains of a smirk. Ben wet his lips, parting them for a moment.

"You scared'a me then?" Ben breathed the question, his tone far different from the one he asked a few moments ago. It was a hardened thought as if he'd already concluded the answer before he even asked - Though he wanted to see it. That moment where the searching in your eyes falls to a fearful pricked gaze, goosebumps on your skin as Ben's question truly dawned on you, the man tilting his head slightly, brows still furrowed. He knew that you were scared, but his face read he had no inkling of such a thing; A truly evil man, is one who can be good when he chooses to be.

"Do you want me to be?"

It was a good answer, one that left Ben in yet another warranted corner, grappling with his rather intrusive blood flow. With another shift of his weight, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, inhaling sharply through his nostrils. The dust of cocaine surely didn't go unnoticed, Ben wiping the remainder of it from his upper lip with his thumb, and rubbing it over his tongue. He wouldn't let any go to waste, especially considering Butcher would be now... less inclined to support his rather persistent habit. It showed though; That widened gaze, pupils dilating and lips parting just enough to make way for slow breaths - The smell of whiskey and tobacco. He was always high, smoking even more than Frenchie, but there was a strange tension when he cut lines on the coffee table in front of everyone. It was a different level, the elated silver of his blue eyes pinning people to the spot, unwavering, unblinking. Terrifying, And yet there you sat.

"I think you're already past that. The whole scared thing. I mean shit, you're damn well traumatized."

"I'm stronger than you realize, you know?"

"I could pin you with one hand and take you over my knee with the other." Your throat dried, his gaze inspecting your reaction with a tentative inhale, breathing out a hum as he reached for the pipe still white-knuckled in your hand. He wasn't wrong - He had proved that, yet your stomach twisted into a tight knot at his little hesitation to make it crystal clear. His index and middle finger curled inwards twice, gesturing to the pipe with his eyes still searing into yours. You handed it over with a quiet sigh, eyes breaking away from his before he could dig himself deeper into your mind. You weren't sure how he did it, explored the darkest pits of your mind and clutching them with a forceful intimacy. You recalled the kiss, intermingled with hitched gasps and pleads for mercy, as your hand grazed his. It was warm, his ravenous hands working in stark contrast to the sudden plush in his voice and groans. It was nearly human. Ben paused for a tense moment, eyeing the pipe and parting his lips as the warmth of your skin rested against the callous of his own. You chewed your lip, sneaking a glance at the man who now visibly gathered his thoughts, tensing his jaw as he surrendered the words away, pursing his lips to punctuate his silence.

Sometimes you still wonder what he was going to say. Before he pulled his hand back from yours, before clearing his throat as he caught your stolen glimpse. He set the pipe down onto the small table, watching the bowl fizzle out with you, the black layer slowly crumbling to a dull white ash.

"I was going to ask why you kissed me,"

"I know." You tensed, half expecting him to be far past dozed off during the rolling periods of silence between you. Your eyes moved from the long put-out bowl to look in his direction, though he was already looking at you. The weight of his gaze fell onto your shoulders, beading down your body in slow waves. Ben wet his lips, pursing them once again; And you knew that was all you were going to get. It was nearly impossible to pry him from his mind when he sunk back, his eyes distant for a bleary second, before being blinked away, darting around for the closest vice to pull him back.

But there you were. His vice. The drug no material high could compete with, your soft lips shaping into words he could hardly conceptualize past the thick veil of his rushing pulse. He wanted to constrict himself, for the sake of himself, clench his damn fists and look away from your lips. He swallowed, jaw tight as you leaned closer to him in an inaudible allure, tying the both of you to a painful high. You could feel his breath, hot against yours as he inhaled slowly, his hands unlocking themselves from the couch to reach toward you.

     As Ben's large hands moved, he inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving your lips. The warmth of his skin against yours sent an electric shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning your body closer to him. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat and conflict in his eyes, the battle between his selfish desire and his self-control. But as he allowed you to press your weight against his own, his lips brushing against yours, you knew that he had lost the war. 

     Bens's lips moved against yours, slow, painstakingly hesitant as if you were made from glass. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You could taste the weed on his tongue, mixing with bitter liquor, the soft scratch of his stubble rubbing against your skin. You moaned softly against his mouth, your hands moving to his chest, clutching tightly at the collar of his sweatshirt, still dotted with water from his hair. He groaned, the sound deep, and pulled from his chest, a breath of surprise passing his nostrils as you pulled yourself impossibly closer to him. Your legs rested beside his, straddling his lap as your fingers moved to his cold wet hair, tangling themselves through the soaked strands. His tongue traced your bottom lip, his mouth practically watering as you began to grind yourself down against his stiffening cock. A familiar pulse strung itself in your desperate movements, an instinctive dance you couldn't help but lose yourself in, your heart thrumming in your chest, heartbeat quickening in your ears. You took in a ragged breath, lips still pressed messily to his as his hands gripped your hips with a pleading grunt.

"What're you doin' to me, huh baby?" Ben whispered against your glossy lips, his eyes still closed, forehead gently resting against yours. You wish you could answer feasibly, and bring your swelling need to words, but the feeling of being against him was intoxicating. His grasp was like steel, unwavering, fingers moving in practiced gropes, invasively pulling your thighs further apart with little effort on his end. Your struggles, the moments your thighs hitch together or your back arches an inch out of place, were hardly anything to him. His hands molded you in forceful need, the heat of your skin and the sound of your breathing; He wanted it all, all of your weight against his statuesque body, the feeling of the gathering heat between your thighs grinding against his cock. 

"Deals a deal," You reminded the Supe with gritted teeth, pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. Though it did nothing, hardly feeling like a tug, he tilted his chin up, relaxing his shoulders into the couch. Your heart thundered in your chest - You felt like a mouse balancing on the paw of a lion waiting to strike, as you pestered and teased him. He clawed into your hips, palming your ass with a shudder as you lowered your head to his jaw. Your lips traced his stubble, humming softly as you reached his neck, grinding your hips down against him.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Ben spoke in a shallow rumble. "I should'a known better." You felt yourself lift from his lap, his hands bringing you into the air with ease to lay your back on the couch, grunting softly as he pinned your hands beside your head, positioning himself above you. Your breath swam shallow in your chest, swirling from your lips in a mix of moans and echoed pleas. For just a split second, the crushing heat of fear cut through your arousal in a searing slash, your thighs quivering, instinctually going to snap together. Ben's knee caught the space between your legs before you could deny him further, his pressing need to predict your movements drawing a whimper from your throat. He was like stone, no matter how your thighs wriggled, it all resulted in your clit pressing snug against his knee. You could feel your cheeks burning, rushing with the same heat that pulsed itself in your aching cunt. Ben watched your expression shift, releasing your wrists slowly as he pressed his knee experimentally against your heat. You let out a pitiful mewl, watching him slowly reach one of his hands down to grope his clothed length, the veins in his arms bulging as he dipped his fingers past his waistband with a sharp exhale.

     The noises you made stirred something in him, his cock twitching with each strained breath that caught your throat. Ben tugged the waistband of his sweatpants down, wetting his lips with a strained grunt as he freed his aching length. You shuddered, feeling his gaze on your face as you watched him wrap his hand over his thick shaft, moving in time with a slow grind against your pussy. Precum pearled at the tip, his thumb rubbing over his slit with a sharp exhale as he gazed at you hungrily.

You'd never forget those eyes, obscured by the drape of his dripping hair as he stroked himself to the image of you before him. Sweat beaded on his temple, brows arching as your back did, letting out a soft grunt as his eyes clung to your features. Ben's other hand released your wrist; He knew well enough he didn't have to restrain you to get what he wanted. His fingers traveled over your arm, rough palm rubbing against your burning cheek, before hitching his grip to the waistband of your thin shorts. His thick fingertips pushed past the fabric with an eased grunt, stretching the elastic band down to expose your underwear. Ben's jaw tensed before his lips fell open to take in a gritted gasp, gripping his cock as it pulsed at the mere sight of you. Your thighs swell over the edges of your underwear, the pearls of sweat pooling in the curves of your features. The air was thick with your hot breathing, eyes pinned on his cock, and how you affected him with each piece of clothing peeled back. Though by the time you had shed your shorts, his patience had worn thin, standing to his feet to properly rid of his sweatpants; Your breath caught in your throat as you did your best to keep up with the man's motions, how quickly his muscular arms crossed over his wide shoulders, pulling the sweatshirt from himself. Scars etched through his skin behind his chest hair, moving with his body as he sauntered toward you.

"Take everything but those lil' panties off, before I rip it all off you sugar."

You manage to comply, prying away the fabric confining your now sweat-glazed skin, pooling in the curves of your body. You could hear his breathing hitch with every article shed from your frame, your shirt discarded messily over your head. You were left as he wanted, as he demanded, head lulling off to the side as you looked up at him. Ben looked almost smug, satisfied as his hand, unmoving at the base of his aching cock, began to stroke slowly, lips parting as he admired you. Your hands clutched at the spaces beside you on the couch, imagining how your nails would feel grinding into his shoulders, raking down his back. The heat wound tight around your senses, breathing shallow as he took two steps toward you, free hand extending to tap your knee with his index and middle finger.

"Open these up, don't be all innocent now." He spoke in a husk voice, blue eyes perched on your chest, admiring how it contoured in decadent shadows with each of your delicate breaths. You wanted to hesitate, though his calloused fingers remained unmoving on your knee. Your body rushed in a hot pulse, cheeks searing as the thought dawned on you.

If you didn't open them, he would simply do it for you.

"That's it now, pumpkin." You shuddered from his pleasure at your eyes leering away from his invasive stare, knees wobbling slightly as you spread them for the man in front of you. They were a simple white pair, nothing special you thought; You dimly remember pulling them on this morning, eyes raking over yourself in the mirror with a chew of your lip. You would never imagine someone taking such a violent and carnal need to see you like that - Like this, Ben's fingers sliding down from your knee to the soft of your thigh. He kneaded your flesh, shamelessly jerking his cock as his touch left a fire in its path, rampaging your mind as he drew closer and closer to your needy heat. A whine hummed through your chest, perhaps racketeering with a man known for his selfish dalliances was less than wise, you thought - Regret, hesitation, it pulsed in your mind in an evil concoction, it strung tight in the path of his hot touch, how small grunts escaped him with each arch of his rough palm against his member. You wanted to sputter an excuse, your lips parting, the words about to spill from them; Before his hand rested on your cunt. The strings that tightened your throat, binding each one of your movements to him and his reaction to you, snapped. Your stomach fluttered as if you were on a rollercoaster, the aching tension of the rattling chain releasing, the traction giving way to an indescribable rush and sending you rocketing downwards. You knew you were being pulled, chained, and bound to the force of a man above you, all by the tips of his fingers now circling your clit in time with his strokes.

"Fuck," You huffed shakily, hardly able to conduct the electric shivers stippling your movements as you let your weight relax into his fingers. Your hips rocked slowly, clit pressed snug against the calloused warmth of his fingers. Ben's hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb flicking over your clit as his fingers danced circles around it. He watched your body, the way your chest rose and fell, the way your eyes fluttered, and your lips parted. His breathing grew ragged, and he grunted with each stroke of his cock, the head glistening with precum. You felt the fire inside you, spreading from your core, igniting every nerve ending. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only your body, Ben's touch, and the sounds of your own ragged breaths.

"Look'atchya," Ben whispered, his voice thick with a pillowy rumble. "Soaking through your panties," You didn't didn't respond, your throat too tight to form the words. You only nodded, silently pleading, the motion of your head sending another lashing rush, the pangs of denied pleasure practically agonizing.

Ben's eyes met yours, a hunger and a want for you in them. He licked his lips and leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "You're fucking depraved," He whispered, his fingers dipping pulling at the thin cotton, hot against your sensitive flesh. He smirked, his thumb now toying in circles over your clit, pulling it taut with each pass. "Gettin' all wet for a bad man like me,"

Your back arched with a moan, head falling back against the couch, his words sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. The way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, it was all far past intoxication. You felt like you were drowning in lust, the water rising higher and higher, threatening to swallow you whole. His fingers played with you, circling your clit with a deeper pressure, teasing you, making you squirm.

Ben's other hand slid up your thigh, grasping the underside of your knee, pulling you closer, and simultaneously spreading your legs. His cock, thick and heavy, rested on the soft mound of your pussy, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. You whimpered, needing more, needing him.

"Please, Ben," You begged, your voice a ragged whisper. You'd damn yourself later for sounding so pathetic eyes stinging with tears of need, cheeks hot with your desperately rushing pulse. He watched you for a sick moment, holding his thumb to your clit, lips twitching into a sadistic smirk as your squirmed frantically. You shuddered out a gasp, frustrated and desperate. His fingers stilled on your pussy, Ben's rough palm now stroking the base of his member. Your body jerked slightly, the denied pleasure mingling with a bitter pain. Ben's lowered the head of his cock, letting his girth slide between your pussy lips with a strained grunt. Pressed against your glossy entrance, rubbing against it in slow circles now, your hands reached his shoulders, nails carving into the muscular flesh.

"Beg for it."

And you did. You remember your lips hanging open, drawing in shallow breaths as you couldn't tear your eyes from the tip of his cock; How he teased you with each small breach. Tears wet your lashes, shame and need wrestling in your chest with each heaving breath between obscene words. You couldn't recall the words, the magic phrase you spoke to please him just enough to give you what you craved more than anything. It was too foggy, too spun out by the responding movement of Ben's hips.

"Nasty little thing," The man praised, hooking your knees against the curve of his elbows, yanking your ass to the edge of the couch. You cried out quietly, unable to gather your breath before the hot boiling mix of pleasure and pain began to wash over your sweat-glazed body. He slid inside, slowly at first, lip twitching as he groaned quietly. Your cunt pulled him in, the velvety breathlessness of your moans and pleads beckoning him to fill you. When his hips hit yours, the pillowed warmth of your ass slapping gently against his thighs, he admired you for a fleeting second - How your cunt wrapped over the hilt of his cock, your hips already rocking as the bitterly sweet familiar feeling of him swept you away entirely. You'd never admit to him how perfectly he fit inside, how a tugging part of your heart yearned to hear his soft moans, to hear him plea for you. Though with a hesitant draw of your eyes to meet his, you could feel the ice-hot revelation shackling your aching cunt around him, how his refusal to use you slowly seemed to short-circuit your blinded mind. He knew what you wanted; But he knew the darker side of you as well. The part of you that could never love him, but craved his calloused touch, the taste of his whiskey, the smell of his smoke. Ben thrust violently into you, the couch creaking in sharp squeaks as he practically lifted your ass from the edge of the couch, eyebrows knitting together as the new angle set a flame in his movements. Your breathing couldn't keep up, sweat dampening your hair as your hands uselessly held onto his shoulders with white knuckles. Your words floundered from between your plush lips, eyes rolling back with the rushing force of each one of his thrusts. It spun your feeble mind, melting in his hands, your grasp falling away from his shoulders with a pathetic sob. It was useless; Whether you were moaning in ecstasy, or fighting tooth and nail, he could use you when he saw fit. Use you brutally, your cunt quivering around his invasive cock, his hands moving to your waist now.

"Stop your fuckin' squirmin'!" You hadn't realized you were until his rough hands pinned you down to the worn fabric of the couch below you. He palmed your hips like a sex toy, admiring the feeling of your pussy continuing to milk him despite stilling inside of you. The head of his intrusive member pressed and rested in the small curve of your cervix. His eyes sized you down, undressing your naked body, pulling the innocence from his perspective of you; This is how you wanted him to treat you? To admire you for a transient instant before reeling his hips back, and snapping them forward with a vulgar clap of your ass. He stayed deep inside, only pulling out a few inches before slamming back, stamping the head of his cock against your cervix, pushing you to your absolute limit - All with a sickening smirk on his face, beads of sweat falling down in small pools down the curve of his jaw and prominent edges of his muscular neck and chest. Your hands explored every inch of his skin, drinking down whatever opportunity to feel him, to pry underneath the facade. Sparks flared behind the thin lids of your eyes, lashes wet and messy with tears, cheeks aflame as your body followed in smoldering suit. Ben didn't let up his thrusts, the telling pulse of your eager cunt, the incandescence moans choked from your throat. "That's it now angel, that's right - That's it, soak my cock, baby." The man's voice was mesmeric, unable to pull his attention from the unsteady breath in your growing moans. The undeniable limerence pulsated in his veins, the simple sound of your voice threatening to spill him over the edge. The ambrosial tone of your connection bound your senses to him, all the hot sparks that frayed your skin now tightened themselves in your aching cunt.

"Cum for me," Ben's words hardly pressed past the thick veil that lashed and licked hungrily at your heartbeat and body, a hot white pleasure shocking your quivering cunt. The man above you groaned, pulling your hips down to meet his, the sudden sensation of his cum filling your convulsing cunt washing over your hot skin. You tensed, legs locking around the other's waist. He gripped the back of the couch, splintering and cracking the wood underneath his iron grasp, shuddering out a hissed breath with each shallow thrust of his hips. His movements slowed, drips of his sweat dotting your skin, the heat of your mingling breaths thickening the oxygen you gasped desperately for. Slowly, he pulled himself from your pussy, letting out a strangled moan as the tip popped out, his warm cum following in a slow trickle.

Your eyes were half-lidded, eyes swimming up to find Ben, watching his toned body pull away from you, his slick cock still half erect, your juices dripping messily down his strong thighs. Your legs shook, still raised, as if stuck in that obscene position until he demanded you do otherwise - Though when the warmth of his palm met the soft of your trembling thigh, he pushed down slowly. Your legs relaxed, meeting the couch with a grunt, Ben's hand lingering on your skin for a brief moment. You knew the pain would come later, the bruises flowering over your hips, returning to the silent tension that Ben insisted was better for both of you. He took a seat beside you, his chest rising and falling with a steadying breath before looking towards you with a lazy chaste expression.

"You tell anyone about this, I'll fuckin' kill ya." You couldn't help but turn your head, speaking softly between gasps for air.

"If you were really going to kill me, Ben - You would have done it already."